I like to think that all things in the universe happen for a reason; everything is bound in this cosmic array of events and the reasons things happen the way they do is because of some alignment in the stars and planets. Everything that happens is supposed to happen I guess is what I believe. I often think to myself, what if I had done different, how would my life have turned out? Just things like that.

ANYWHO, in November of 2004, my little cousin Mason was born. He was the first baby my family had had since my cousin Lane was born (who at the time was 9). Needless to say everyone was very exciting. We love our little Mason Jar, and he loves us, too. Although, at times, I have started believing that his goal for his toddler years is more of deviance rather than love, in my case that is.

It all started when Mason was starting to talk a little more fluently, and could put sentences together. Grandpa Charlie had bought Grandma Helen a cute little moose statue to put on the deck. One day, while I was absent from the home at my job, Grandma and Mason were outside playing, when Mason knocked the moose off deck. One of the moose's antlers broke off when it hit the ground. "Who broke my moose?" Grandma asked Mason.

"Chassedi did." Mason told her.

Grandma laughed at him for his comment and they went on playing outside. Later on she told me what he had said, I too, laughed. Little did I know that was only the beginning...

Then next incident was when Mason and I were playing with Mr. and Mrs. Potato Heads. He and I were putting the facial features and the body parts on our Potato Heads, and the next thing I knew we were arguing about how to put the features on the toys. I honestly don't remember why we started arguing, it was probably something stupid, and yes world I realize he was only two at the time and that I am "immature" for arguing with a two year old; in my defense, and I know this probably won't help my case, he started it. Grandma ended up getting on to us, as whoever else was over there (I think it was my Aunt Christi) making fun of me for fighting with a toddler.

Since then it has been complete madness in my relationship with Mason. I have a video on my cellular telephone, of the newest member of our family, Madison, crawling around on the floor.

"Maddle Paddle," you can hear me say in the background. Then you hear this tiny voice in front of me say, "Madison. It's Madison." I pointed the phone up to show Mason sitting on Grandma's lap telling me it is "bad" to call Madison, Maddle. I let it go, even though I really wanted to say something back, I let it go. I gave myself a little pat on the back for that one; I stopped the argument dead in its tracks. From then on we've had little spats, where it ends with me getting told I'm to old to be fighting with him, and blah blah blah. I really feel everyone is looking at his age rather than what he is plotting in his little head... ridiculous, I KNOW! BUT IT'S TRUE! Little children are amazing, and a lot smarter than lots of people think! (If you have seen the movie "Baby Geniuses" then you know what I'm talking about)

To prove I'm not crazy, I will now share with you a recent occurrences. On Nov. 15, the day after Mason's third birthday, I came over to Grandma and Grandpa's house to visit. Mason was in the kitchen floor with a butter knife and a pumpkin. He was "carving" the pumpkin, and by carving I mean stabbing it and taking the occasional chunk out of the pumpkin; he also broke up the drill later on but that's another story). Naturally he was pestering me, and throwing seeds and pumpkin guts at me, yadda yadda yadda... No biggy. We ate supper and afterwards I help clean off the table, and Mason went back to the laceration of his pumpkin.

A little bit later, I was holding my cat, T, when Mason popped up from the floor and started petting T, with me. Mason was actually being sweet! In the words of Joey Lawrence, "WHOA!" I was so happy he was being nice to me. (I should've known better, I should've known!!!!) All of a sudden Mason slipped. He hit his head on the dinner table, and the pie pan with the seeds and guts in it went flying. I leaned down to comfort him and when I asked if he was OK, he told me he was and I hugged him and rubbed his head. That's when he pushed away from me, looked up at me with his watery eyes, and said "You pushed me."

"No, you slipped on the rug, I didn't push you." I explained to him.

"You pushed me." he told me again.

"No, I didn't, you slipped on the rug. I would not push you down!" I clarified for him once again.

That was it. He didn't say anything else about it and went on about his business and I went on with my cat petting. While sitting and petting, I heard some conversation going down in the bathroom. "Chassedi, pushed me down, Gwa'ma."

"What?" Grandma said.

"What the h-e-double hockey stick?" I thought to myself.

"Chassedi pushed me down. I hit my head." Mason said again, but with added detail this time.

"Chassedi pushed you down and you hit your head?!" Grandma asked, just to make sure that was what the heathen had said.

Grandma came out of the bathroom holding Mason's hand and said, "Well should we make Chass go into time out?" Mason shook his head yes. Grandma then proceeded to tell me I had to be in time out for 21 minutes. Bull crap! I was so mad, but couldn't show it because all three of us knew Mason was only saying that to get to me... it worked, but I still showed no emotion. I did tell him he was a liar, so I guess I said something. As I fervently helped pick up the pumpkin seeds and guts that had splattered all over the dining room floor, it hit me, this is karma coming back around to bite me in the booty!

Yes, the karma police have shackled me up and thrown away the key my friends. For all the times I pestered, hit, kicked, threw water on when he was sleeping, made fun of, and then when he got mad at me he got in trouble, my uncle Travis (Mason's dad). Maybe if I'd been a nicer niece to my dear uncle, Mason wouldn't be such a turd to me now. This just goes to show that what goes around does come around, and when it comes back around it sucks, BIG TIME! Thankfully, I don't recall a lot of mean or hateful events in my life, so I think that this is one of few karmatic (is that even a word?) happenings in my life. So, to my uncle, I'm sorry for being a tiny demon child. And to my little cousin, you'll get yours, you have a little sister!!!! Muwahahaha!!!!!

Peace.